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Poem by David Sillar

Money Makes the Mare to Go

Tune, Colonel Montgomerys Strathspey.


Were I, wha am not o the class,
At liberty to wale a jo,
Id choose a rich an wealthy lass
Since money makes the mare to go.

	Ive aften heard the sage advice,
	Poor fock shoud be content; but who
	Woud buy content at such a price,
	When money makes the mare to go?


What fignifies the force o love! 
An beauty sweet, what can it do? 
Beauty an love rich fock may move, 
While money makes their mare to go. 
	Ive aften heard, &c.


A bonny lass, I owns a charm; 
When gaily clad, ye beauty sho; 
But what doest fair, if Poortith storm;
Tis money makes the mare to go. 
	Ive aften heard, &c.


Were I for life to wale a wife, 
Tae keep me free frae care an woe, 
Id choose ane rich, a foe to strife,
An then Id mak the mare to go. 
	Ive aften heard, &c.


If poor fock think Ive oer much greed, 
Or mercy nane hae them tae show, 
I tell them plain, thro want an need, 
My mares sae poor she scarce can go. 
	Ive aften heard, &c.


But if that fortune wad ordain 
A competence on me to flow, 
Theyd never mair hear me complain; 
Rejoicing with my mare Id go. 
	Ive aften heard, &c.


Thus hae I sung mysell tae rest, 
Tho richer I am not a straw; 
Wi what I hae Ill do my best; 
My mare, tho poor, thro life maun go. 
	Ive aften heard, &c.

David Sillar

David Sillar's other poems:
  1. Epistle to J**N G****E, a Famous Theologist and Astronomer
  2. Epistle to the Critics
  3. Verses, Occasioned by a Reply to Burns Calf by an Unco Calf
  4. Song IV
  5. Epistle to R. Burns

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